Hatred
by ABECrudele
Summary: Fushimi Saruhiko hates a lot of things but he hates the color red the most. Implied SaruMi and character deaths. Story is complete.


Hey, this is ABE and this is my first attempt to write a [K] fanfic. It's been a while since I have written anything fan-related. I just hope that my writing did not deteriorate while I was busy with life.

If that is not your cup of tea, I can understand if you would ignore this and read something else.

If this is to your taste or you would like to see it can sit well with you, then let me not be a bother to your reading pleasure. Onwards to the story.

Oh and before I forget. Warnings: Character Deaths.

Disclaimer: GoRa and GoHands owns all [K] related things such as the anime, drama cds, manga and so on. Not even fate would deny that for me.

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Hatred

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Fushimi Saruhiko hates so many things.

He hates his smug superiors, his hard to please seniors, his incompetent subordinates, pointless overtimes, boring paperwork, every sort of vegetable and the list goes on.

But most of all, he hates the color red.

He hates the color red that dominated a certain clan in Shizume City that is nothing but a gang full of delinquents and hoodlums. He hates how much they value their bonds when the world they live in is nothing but a selfish and cruel one.

He hates the color red that is tattooed beneath his collarbone. No matter how much he marred with it deep black lines, he still keeps on seeing the red that bonds him to that red clan.

He hates the color red because it constantly reminds him of a certain red-haired King who swept the feet of his friend, his _only_ friend who blindly worship him as his hero.

He hates the color red because it has always and will always remind him of the skateboarding vanguard of the HOMRA. He hates him because he is the one who broke their seemingly unending pact. He hates him for embracing that pathetic excuse of family as he himself watches from the sidelines, implanting seeds of hate towards those that so-called family. He hates him because he could never understand why he needs to leave and join the blues. He hates him because he is the only one who was able to soar while his own are grounded to the earth.

He hates him because he is the only thing that he could never let go.

…and he will forever hate the red that tainted his hands when he found that person in the ruins of everything, still and battered beyond recognition. He will forever hate the red that stained that vibrant red locks and turned them into a darker, uglier color. He hates the memories that come rushing back in his head, those dark days were he was useless and weak. He hates those days when the one who constantly save him is the very same person who is now in his arms. He hates those days because they constantly reminded him that he was never strong enough to save two of them…that he was not even strong enough to save himself.

He cradles the vanguard's broken body and sobs silently, wishing that all of the red would disappear and that he was the one who was taken away and not the one who protected him.

.

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Months later, Fushimi Saruhiko still hates the color red.

He hates the color that never appears whenever he constantly plays with his knives. He has no plans of slitting any part of his body but it did trouble him that despite the closeness of blade and flesh, no amount of red appears.

He hates the color that never appears whenever he absently bit down his own tongue. The pain lingers but still no red.

He hates the color that would never appear in front of him again even if he desperately calls by its name.

.

One day, he soon learns to love the color when he found himself lying on a pool of his own red after he unconsciously let their target fatally wounded his side. He sees his subordinates and superiors mouthing words of worry, which he could not hear but in the end, it just did not matter to him.

His reason is because he believes…no, knows that he will see that lively boy with vibrant red hair in the other side.

When he opens his eyes, he knew he was right. He was there, waiting for his and is about to approach his with arms wide open. Saruhiko smiles genuinely for the first time as he raises his arms to catch his one and only _Misaki_.

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Author notes:

Funny thing is when I was writing this, I wrote it using _**red**_ pen.

Constructive criticisms are welcomed.

Now please excuse me while I go and mope in a corner because all of the SaruMi fic I like always provoke my feels. *proceeds to gross utter sobbing*


End file.
